


a roof and two hearts (reddie)

by earlytoast



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Slow Burn, an au where theres no clown and no pain, richie has a pretty apartment and a pet bug, saw you in a dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-10-25 08:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20721107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlytoast/pseuds/earlytoast
Summary: “Who knows, maybe someone cute will take you up on it!”“Or maybe a cute serial killer,” I remarked. I knew she had good intentions but I couldn’t even think about dating a potential roommate.She chortled at the quip and tested the awoken echo in the room with a holler. We spent a couple minutes whooping and singing towards the beams above us. I hoped with all of its old heavy timbers, the ceiling absorbed our warm conversations and could keep me company until I found someone to fill the Beverly-shaped hole in the apartment.--in which bev moves out of her shared apartment with richie and he has to find a new roommate





	1. posted

“I just don’t get why you _have_ to move in with him,” I pleaded to Beverly from the sofa, coming off a little bit more desperate and ignorant than intended. I let my body drape across the arm rest, channeling my inner heartbroken Victorian widow.

She laughed, stacking another stiff box onto the rest near the door and resettling her tortoiseshell headband. I figured from reading the newfound emptiness of our shared space it was one of her last boxes. The buildup to today had left our apartment messier than normal but now that everything had been wrapped in old newspaper and squared away, I heard my voice echo in a way that it hadn’t before. There were no more of her jute area rugs or hanging stained glass flowers; no more milky glass Fenton shoes or antique poodle-shaped decanters where the head popped off and leaked old liquor. It was unnerving to see what little I really had once she took away all of her carefully cultivated personals. 

“I’m telling you, Richie, I’m just trying to be smart! Ben’s place is cheaper and the rent here is fucking insane, I don’t know how I put up with it for so long,” she chuffed, “and I’m surprised you still are. But I guess you can always start selling organs just to keep your prime piece of real estate.”

I rolled my eyes and drew my sweater sleeves over my hands, “At least I have Barney!” 

Barney, my tawny Hercules beetle sat in his plastic terrarium on the windowsill. I like to think he can understand us when we talk about him, we faked a whole ‘who gets to keep the child’ scene the other day when I was feeling more chipper about the situation. Decidedly, he was mine because Ben hated bugs so he was as good as dead if he left with Bev. 

She was right though, as stupid as it was to keep paying out the ass for this place, it was irresistible. It sat right outside of the small business district on Third street above a delicate nordic specialty store with skeins of alpaca wool overflowing woven baskets in the windows. The owner, Maj, treated the entire building as if it were her childhood home in Finland and hung old photographs and painted ceramic tiles on every inch of the wall she could get her weathered hands on, including the stairwell and hallway to the two upper apartments. Anyone visiting found it odd and joked that she was our grandma, but it just added a layer to the charm of it all. Throughout the building were hardwood floors of maple, and in the store and our kitchen the boards were painted with Scandinavian flourishes of red and blue, courtesy of Maj’s late wife. We had the bigger apartment of the two; the one that had full windows from your waist to the ceiling and looked out over the gentle hill it was perched upon. Like a valley, we could see down onto Third street in all of its quiet bustle; while the day drew out shoppers and tourists, the evening crowd consisted of locals ducking into bars and walking to the next performance at the theatre. It felt vicarious to watch everyone moving to and fro, while I holed up at the dining table that I overwhelmed with papers and half-empty cups of coffee. 

It scared me whether I’d become introverted once Beverly moved out but my dependence on human interaction scared me more.

“Well, I think that’s it,” Bev called as she poked her head into her room one last time, breaking me out of my sneaking spiral of getting too introspective. She smiled at me like an apology but she had nothing to be sorry for, if she was it’d be from me guilting her into it. “Hey, get an ad up for a roommate right away, but don’t start ignoring me the second I get my shit on the truck.”

She moved to sit next to me and placed a cigarette-burned hand on my knee.

I smiled back at her; I didn’t want her to know I was sad. Frankly, I didn’t want her to know I was scared, but she knew well enough.

“Already got the craigslist draft waiting.”

“Who knows, maybe someone cute will take you up on it!”

“Or maybe a cute _serial killer_,” I remarked. I knew she had good intentions but I couldn’t even think about dating a potential roommate. 

She chortled at the quip and tested the awoken echo in the room with a holler. We spent a couple minutes whooping and singing towards the beams above us. I hoped with all of its old heavy timbers, the ceiling absorbed our warm conversations and could keep me company until I found someone to fill the Beverly-shaped hole in the apartment.

+

That afternoon, she moved out. Maj helped us carry each rattling box and crate down the stairwell and onto the bed of Ben’s old red truck. Bev understood this was a much bigger deal to me than to her, but allowed herself to match my energy. 

“Honey, you can call me whenever, you know? Text, snap, email, whatever. It’s not like I won’t see you on campus either,” she said reassuringly through a red-lipped grin. I was taller than her but in moments like these, the feeling of being understood and cared for made me feel as though she was looking down upon me. I didn’t need to feel small, but I did.

“This could be good for me, now I don’t have to warn you every night before I start clapping cheeks.”

She laughed and shoved me, “as if you’re clapping any cheeks!”

“Ouch, Bev, too real.”

“I’m serious though, don’t be a stranger, I’m here for you always,” she said as if she was tossing a rope to me so I could continue to cling to an extension of her; like I could tug and ring a bell at the end for her to hear me.

As Ben and Beverly pulled away, I sat on the curb and looked at the leaves beginning to catch in the drain route. I was too tall to be stooped over like this, too old to be trifling through the earth mould like a child, all long limbs and smelling like cigarettes. I felt infantile and abandoned, but I couldn’t blame that on her. Lonely as I seemed to be, all I could do was accept my hollow home and grow up. It was about time somebody pried my fingers off of Bev’s arm because even though we had plenty of other friends, we were the closest, leaving my other interpersonal relationships in a metaphorical lurch. _Maybe I will meet someone_, I thought. I shook my head of the idea before it grew. 

Before heading to university, I was told it was easier to not be straight in a college town, but I guess it wasn’t the case for me. I’d had brief encounters (glances with other men that may have been held for too long) but that’s about it. No breakthrough events or anything, I hadn’t even slept with anyone. I was now two years into school with nothing to show for a romantic personal life other than my unreciprocated flirting with people at frat parties who could very obviously smell the beer on my breath. It’s easy to use humor to hide the fact you’re lonely and just want to get laid or hold someone’s hand, and I’m certainly the funny friend. 

+

Into the night, I paced lazily from room to room like an old dog, getting up from the couch every ten minutes to take a lap for no reason other than to ascertain that I was truly alone. I took inventory of what was left behind: a couch, floor lamp, coffee table, dining table and chairs, my bed. A ratty, vaguely Christmas-themed throw blanket was draped on the couch in a last-ditch attempt at livening up the place. Other than a few polaroids on the fridge and some floor plants, I had no decor. For all anyone knew, this apartment could've been staged. It was oddly sterile and I began to feel even more cold and lonely. _Alone on a Sunday night? God you're pathetic_. I took a mental note to go to Goodwill and buy literally anything that I liked, I was tired of the bareness, the accidental minimalism.

I may have ended up drinking a few too many of Bev’s abandoned White Claws and posted my ad for a roommate.

_ roomie wanted: _

_ im a 21 y/o male english student, close to 3rd and campus _

_ rent is $650 including utilititties  _

_ please dont be messy or annoying  _

_ MUST BE LGBT FRIENDLY _

_ send message ASAP if interested _

_ p.s. i have a pet bug his name is barney and he doesnt bite  _

“Gotta make sure they appreciate you too, bud,” I said to Barney as his horn tapped against the plastic container. I finished my last beer and padded off to the right of the living room and into my bedroom where the quaker door sat a little too tight on the hinges, creaking and reminding me of how much history flooded this place. I felt whole enough, but on nights like these, it helped to have someone to share cigs and laughs with. My window was open, letting in a September breeze that stripped my lungs within moments, making my eyes water with how sharp and limpid it felt. I watched onto Third, seeing a few stragglers passing to and fro, bar to bar. I wondered if any of them would see my ad.

+


	2. be responsible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A red rain jacket darted into view, running up the street through the splashing haze on the glass. He looked like an oil painting, a flame flitting through the downpour until he got to the storefront and huddled into the stairwell entrance. I stood by the door, listening for one timid step after another as he was likely analyzing the photos on the walls and drying himself off. The sound of footsteps grew closer and closer, leading to a knock on my door that could envy a jumpscare.  
I glanced through the Judas as if it would be anybody else but him.  
Eddie Kaspbrak. 
> 
> He was bouncing on the other side, cold, anxious, and pretty. As I opened the door, I had to remind myself this was just a roommate interview, nothing more, not a date, stop it Richie, stupid stupid stupid --- ”Hi!”  
“Hey, Richie, right? It’s nice to meet you!” he replied absolutely cheesing, looking up at me through wet lashes. His bangs were loose, sticking to his forehead with rain. We shook hands and he apologized for the clamminess. I never wanted to hear him apologize or feel sorry for anything ever again but I still wiped my hand on my jeans.

Last night in my dream I was a kid again, Coke-bottle glasses sliding down my nose and cuts on my knees. I was running through the spacious woods of Michigan, no vines or widowmakers, just trees standing tall and strong upon the forest floor. There was someone in front of me, another boy that I’d never seen before, with brown cowlicked hair and the whitest tube socks ever, like absolutely fresh out of the package white. We were shouting and laughing; I could feel the pounding of my feet against the earth, the way it shook my bones, that electric feeling telling us to run forever. 

That’s all it was, just vernal and full of way too much energy. It made me feel pure. Before it ended, we finally stopped moving and stood atop a stone bluff coated in sunbaked lichen. Dream me felt incredibly aware of his hands as he was standing so close to this other boy, a bambi-eyed fledgling with the sun catching on his flushed cheeks. He wouldn’t turn fully to me but a profile was enough to see how precious he was, how hallowed he should be.I think I was smiling in my sleep because I woke up with my cheeks hurting. 

All I wanted was to be 13, maybe I could’ve had a re-do of those cursory, formative years I wasted loathing myself for liking boys instead of relishing the warmth and innocence of it all. My middle and high school years were filled with introspection, keeping to myself and acting dumb but being smart. All hallways navigated with my head down, because _God forbid_ if I even _let_ myself look at a boy, it’d all be over. Throwing myself into my homework and private things like mushroom foraging and single-player video games it was lonely, albeit safe, but I had a lot of catching up to do in college as far as human interaction goes. 

+

I didn’t feel incredibly hopeful about the prospect of a new roommate so I wasted my morning by anxiously sitting in bed, smoking until noon. Putting my feet over the side of my bed reminded me a lot of yesterday when I felt too large for the curb, but I guess that’s what happens when you don’t have a fucking bed frame and your legs could be coveted by spiders. I shuffled off to make some coffee, grabbing Barney on the way to the kitchen. With my foot, I traced the painted flowers and dalecarlian horses on the floorboards as the brewer made slow work of turning water into lifeblood. Barney clung to my shirt and I hummed towards him. _Maybe that’s why I was single. Humming to a goddamn rock with legs._

When I eventually got around to checking my email, there were only three, two of which were non-students with taglines such as “I’ll show you a good time” and “I’m clean in more ways than one.” 

_Move to trash. Move to trash. _

The remaining message was brief, but seemingly honest and not inappropriate, almost a little eager. 

It was from a boy with the email ‘ekaspbrak@nmu.edu,’ and it read,

_Re: roomie wanted:_

_Just saw your ad! Would love to work something out. _

_I think I check all your boxes of criteria, can we meet up @ the apartment 5:00 tomorrow?_

_Best,_

_Eddie_

His email was three sentences long but somehow not serial-killer worthy. I replied quickly, realizing he had sent that a mere 5 minutes after I listed the ad. This was the best lead I had, so why not? 

_hey,_

_sounds great, i’ll have a lease agreement just in case_

_It’s above maj’s knits off of 3rd, apartment A_

_see you then_

_yours,_

_richie_

I had exactly 3 hours before meeting this potential roommate, so like any sane person I stalked him on Facebook. I needed to know who was coming up to my door, right? 

_Eddie Kaspbrak. _

_Works at Heartlines Coffee Company _(Thought I’d recognized him from somewhere, its Bev’s favourite coffee shop.)

_Studies at Northern Michigan University_ (Probably studying something smart, like business or management.)

_Single_ (Hm. Not like it matters, but hm.)

Upon seeing his initial profile picture, I considered calling the whole thing off once I realized how stupidly attractive he was, all brown-eyed and bashful. He looked like how the word ‘sappy’ sounded. I felt like an idiot just looking at his pictures, almost guilty in a way to the point of looking over my shoulder knowing no one was there to catch me. But that’s where internalized homophobia and self-loathing gets you, I guess. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing the same thing, typing my name into all of his social media to know what he was getting himself into, clicking back into photos so old I don’t even remember the people in them.

I wondered if he would like the place, but really, who wouldn’t? Old cast-iron radiators, a clawfoot tub that didn’t leak, all the ceiling clearance you would ever need; it was a gem, the only thing I’d have to make sure he liked was me.

+

Beverly called during a break from unpacking and it was good to hear from her, my depressed brain had the impression that once she left she wouldn’t want to reach out anymore. We talked about her new place, how the floor was plywood under ugly linoleum and it smelled like a grandma but her and Ben were happy. I brought up the email from Eddie.

“Wait...Eddie _Kaspbrak_? The _barista_? He was in my psych class last semester, he’s a nursing major.”

Nursing! My heart skipped a beat. As if the boy couldn’t get any cuter. I asked if she knew anything else about him, putting on my most apathetic, nonchalant voice to hide my excitement.

“He talks so much. I remember him always making digs at the professor,” I laughed, she paused, “I think he might be gay. At least he won’t be homophobic or anything.”

“Hm,” I replied.

“_Fuck_, don’t tell me you have a crush on him already, Richie.” My face got hot. In the silence, I could hear her take a drag from her cigarette, embers burning at the tip. 

“So what if I do? I didn’t say that, I don’t even know him!” 

“Oh he’s getting defensive now, huh?” 

I huffed. She was right, as always. Even over the phone she could see through my bullshit. I rubbed my eyes under my glasses hard enough to hurt.

“Let me know how it goes, at least, okay? Don’t get your hopes up on that crush, I think he has a bad rep.”

“Yeah well so does Taylor Swift.”

“Sure Richie, but Eddie Kaspbrak is not Taylor. I gotta go now, I love you!” 

“Love you too, Bev,” I hung up. All of this new information rushed in my head. I didn’t want to have a crush on someone I didn’t know, someone who might be my roommate, someone I might end up knowing too well. Finishing my coffee, I screwed my eyes shut and compartmentalized the thoughts into ‘don’t even think about it Richie.’

I took the remaining time to clean myself up. Looking into the dull bathroom mirror made my bout of insecurity worse. I hadn’t shaved in days or washed my hair, leaving a peppered uneven spray of stubble across my jaw and an illusion that I had just rolled out of a swamp, dark greasy strands hanging above my glasses and brushing the nape of my neck. Really, no time allotted for self-care when you’re falling into a trap of being a lonely sack of shit. Closing my eyes in the shower, I kept reliving last night’s dream, feeling that golden light, that freedom, that...pining. An ache of wanting to hold that tender faun of a boy so intensely it nearly made me blind. 

+

When I got out of the shower, it had started to rain outside, nickel-sized drops were hitting the living room windows. The radiators kicked on with a low, growling hiss that I soon obscured with the sound of Sufjan Stevens’ _Carrie & Lowell_ on the turntable, because it wasn’t obvious enough that I liked boys, right? Record fuzz and rain, my two favourite sounds that would be quickly usurped by something else. I waited patiently for a waterlogged stranger to arrive at my door, giving him this mellow port in a storm to warm up. I wonder how he carried himself, what his major was, how his laugh sounded or if he’d like my music. Am I infatuated with someone I barely know? _Abso-fucking-lutely._ That’s what infatuation is all about.

Coffee in hand with my cardigan drawn close to my body, I was putting on my best dramatic wife stance at the window. A red rain jacket darted into view, running up the street through the splashing haze on the glass. He looked like an oil painting, a flame flitting through the downpour until he got to the storefront and huddled into the stairwell entrance. I stood by the door, listening for one timid step after another as he was likely analyzing the photos on the walls and drying himself off. The sound of footsteps grew closer and closer, leading to a knock on my door that could envy a jumpscare. 

I glanced through the Judas as if it would be anybody else but him. 

_Eddie Kaspbrak. _

He was bouncing on the other side, cold, anxious, and pretty. As I opened the door, I had to remind myself this was just a roommate interview, _nothing more, not a date, stop it Richie, stupid stupid stupid_ \--- ”Hi!”

“Hey, Richie, right? It’s nice to meet you!” he replied absolutely cheesing, looking up at me through wet lashes. His bangs were loose, sticking to his forehead with rain. We shook hands and he apologized for the clamminess. I never wanted to hear him apologize or feel sorry for anything ever again but I still wiped my hand on my jeans. I pushed the door open to show him in, and he dropped his leather briefcase and took off his coat to a goldenrod sweater, mandarin-collared shirt underneath. His pants were dark brown and fitted to his shapely legs, and I guess I suddenly had a thing for thighs. Eddie balanced on each foot to kick off his oxfords, revealing socks with cartoon Pomeranians on them. 

I couldn’t stop ogling him,  I wanted to take in everything I could, and everything matched. Shades of brown and leather accents paralleled with yellows and dark blues, complimenting his roseate skin and dewy hair. I saw him cock his head to listen to _Drawn to the Blood_ crackling out of the record player speakers.

“You want anything? Coffee?” I choked to break the silence of our voices and tear my gaze. I thought I’d find something to warm him up, he was pulling his arms into himself and standing stiff as a board. 

The question took him by surprise. 

“Could I have some tea?” the boy asked softly, still grinning, eyes wide and observant. I nodded in response and didn’t even give him any options, I didn’t want this to turn into a Scott and Ramona situation. The kettle began to warm up on the stove as he began to assess the apartment.

“Do you want me to show you around?” He made a small sound of approval through pursed lips. We walked to the bathroom to the left of the front door and his eyes were lit up like it was Christmas in Times Square, inspecting the hexagonal black-and-white tile work on the floor. 

He kneeled down to touch the feet on the tub, “Not to be weird or anything, but I’d take this apartment for the bathroom alone, like holy shit! It’s so old but so beautiful, and clean!” He got up to look at the rest of the space, touching the hanging fern in the window before asking to see the rest. I made a gesture that read “after you” and I trailed him into the bedroom that could be his. Beverly’s stale scent of cigs and lavender bloomed in the air. She left her bed frame and a cumbersome oak wardrobe that we decided wasn’t worth the effort of hauling down the 5 foot wide stairwell. Two of the four walls had windows; when the breeze came in, it swung the lone pendant light hanging from the ceiling. Eddie’s eyes were scaling the walls and he nodded in approval.

“Onto the next?” I asked, and we moved to the communal space of the apartment; the kitchen, living room, and dining room all bleeding into one with no obstructions but a rolling butcher’s island. I felt like a real estate agent showing the place to a child, the way he bounded on the balls on his feet, the wonder he had in his eyes and the way he furrowed his eyebrows so close, not in scrutiny, but in a way that I could tell he was trying to retain everything he could. The kettle was howling now, so I poured him a cup of sleepytime tea I had picked out.

Eddie sipped from the mug, both small hands wrapped around it like a child. 

“How long have you lived here?” 

“Ah, couple years, since I was a freshman.” I flipped the stopped record to the B-side.

“Then why does it look like you barely live here? Is there something wrong with it that I haven’t noticed?” he instigated, not looking at me, but my sparse furniture collection. I felt embarrassed.

“Nah nothing’s wrong with it, I guess I’ve just always been too busy to care about decorating.”

“It’s not even about _decorating_,” he continued to twist a knife, “you have this beautiful apartment, and jack shit in it. What’s this? A twenty-dollar D.I.Y. TV stand from Walmart? I’m surprised it’s not broken yet. I was wondering why you seemed so sad but then I realized you don’t give a shit about what you surround yourself with,” he gestured around the room with his cup.

I scoffed, taken aback by this change of attitude coming from a honeybee of a person.

“I don’t think you know me well enough to say that.”

“I’d like to, and when I _do_ know you well enough, I’ll say it again.”

He smiled deviously, and I couldn’t tell whether to be pissed or turned on. He took a loud sip and moved to the dining table.

“Let’s talk.”

He was calling the shots as if I was the one looking to move in. 

+

The stiff atmosphere had begun to die down after a bit more context and questions, as did the rain. There was a foggy haze beginning to develop low to the ground and the scent of petrichor overlapped with Eddie’s sage cologne. We were playing verbal grabass, I understood his feisty attitude wasn’t a slight at me, he was just combative, never wanting to accept things the way they were. My jokes were caught and reciprocated, I poked fun at him being a nurse and he at me being an english major. Beverly was right, he talked an extreme amount, and quickly, seemingly for no other reason than to hear himself talk and elaborate beyond comprehension. After the Sufjan record ended, Eddie began to pick through my vinyl, chuckling at the various gems in my collection. Out of everything, he chose REO Speedwagon’s _Wheels Are Turnin_’. I made a mental note of this, thinking it was a surprise clue that might help me later.

He told me he had to move out of his current place within the next week and that this offer was a godsend. I asked why so quickly and he changed the subject by rapping his knuckles on the table and asking for a beer. His neck showed a hard swallow, and it made me even more curious about the inflicted urgency of his living situation. Ignoring further inquiry, I succumbed to his drink request and grabbed and popped open a couple of local IPA’s from the fridge. 

“Can I hold him?” he asked after a quick swig, I believe ‘him’ referring to Barney. 

“Sure, he’s got a hard shell and can fly so you don’t have to be too gentle.” I took my beetle out of his terrarium and placed him in Eddie’s cupped hands.

“He doesn’t bite, does he? No diseases or poison or anything?”

I laughed and shook my head, another thing I had learned about him in the few hours of banter was that despite his major he was an absolute hypochondriac. The fact I smoked inside made him sick to his stomach. He made a particularly interesting quip about him being able to fill my medicine cabinet, I thought _an insult or a bold move of saying he’s going to move in and take over everything?_

Watching him hold Barney with a natural hesitance was funny, I was surprised he even asked, I figured it’d be out of his comfort zone. But no, he sat and played with him, offering him a sip of beer, asking if he could open the next with his horn _(oh absolutely not.) _

+

A few more hours passed before it reached midnight. We had been quiet for a bit, just accepting each others’ presence and drinking. He looked at me expectedly.

“So…” his flushed face was aimed at his hands, eyes at me. 

“So?” 

“What do you think? Can I move in?”

“Shit, I totally forgot that’s why you’re here. Yeah, I--yeah. You like it? You wanna sign the lease?” I staggered pathetically, my mind was buzzing back to the reality of the situation. 

“If you like me enough, yeah,” he said, not intending to look as sweet and dopey as he did. I handed him the lease and a pen, and he initialed every starred line. 

“I hope I don’t irritate you too much.” 

I laughed. _Furthest thing from it actually, Ed._

“Not too much, I’m sure. Bring the security deposit and September’s rent when you start hauling shit over, ok?”

He nodded, “I guess this is my cue to leave.” 

I followed Eddie to the door, and he collected his bag and shrugged his jacket back on.

“See you in two days?” I felt like a kid saying this, like I was twisting my foot behind my ankle and holding out a valentine for him.

“See you in two days.”

We lingered a bit too long in the doorway before he turned and walked down the dimly illuminated hallway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading chapter two !!!!!!!!!!!!! i am going to keep adding to this story for at least 3 more chapters so stay tuned :-)
> 
> meanwhile follow me over on tumblr @ earlyknit


	3. a quiet hum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is this it?” I asked my new roommate, setting down a tote and wiping the sweat dripping down my forehead. Of course we ended up with unseasonably hot weather on Eddie’s move-in day. The sky was clear calling for a cold night, but summer was getting its last punches in before the leaves fully turned. 
> 
> “Ha, if only!” he set down a wooden desk with turned legs, pushing the matching chair into its compartment and stepping back with his hands on his hips as if to say, There! All done. “Only a few more things, I promise.”  
Eddie worried his eyebrows and shot me a grin over his shoulder; his skin glistened with a sheen of sweat high on his cheekbones. I let go of the breath I had unknowingly held in once he left again, jogging downstairs and out to the rest of his possessions. The way he carried himself warmed our patchwork home and inevitably made me a little lightheaded. 
> 
> +
> 
> part 4 of a roof and two hearts, a college au reddie fic

+

“Is this it?” I asked my new roommate, setting down a tote and wiping the sweat dripping down my forehead. Of course we ended up with unseasonably hot weather on Eddie’s move-in day. The sky was clear calling for a cold night, but summer was getting its last punches in before the leaves fully turned. 

“Ha, if only!” he set down a wooden desk with turned legs, pushing the matching chair into its compartment and stepping back with his hands on his hips as if to say, _There! All done_. “Only a few more things, I promise.” 

Eddie worried his eyebrows and shot me a grin over his shoulder; his skin glistened with a sheen of sweat high on his cheekbones. I let go of the breath I had unknowingly held in once he left again, jogging downstairs and out to the rest of his possessions. The way he carried himself warmed our patchwork home and inevitably made me a little lightheaded. 

The apartment looked as if we started Beverly’s move-out process all over again, with half-opened boxes and misaligned furniture everywhere. It frightened me to share this space with someone new that I hadn’t known for years the way I knew Bev. We had shared everything from clothes to cigarettes to the gruesome details of our sex lives. She once described us as if we were a couple of study posts in a heavy tide, roped together by the weight of our shared traumas, saying we’re covered in salt stains and sycophants. And it was true, I had been there for her since freshman year of college like a gentle looming shadow. A silly class about religion brought us together and she moved into my apartment the second semester we knew each other.

Between meeting Eddie and his move-in day, I managed to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes solely out of anxiety and the fact I didn’t feel like doing much else besides obsessive self-care and fueling my nicotine addiction. Destroying my lungs in the name of taking care of myself is validated in some capacity within my brain. I wanted to learn Eddie, though. I wanted to know how he liked his ramen cooked and how his handwriting looked after summer break; if he used a certain type of shampoo or really liked sci-fi films. Was it my place to unfurl his emotional patina? To analyze him like a consequential painting, to understand why every cut and freckle lay in the places they do? I always had a habit of letting people in and then pushing them too far with stupid questions and being too much of myself. I already wrote out a plan in my head for how I would handle this infatuation: I’d keep my mouth shut, hoping my eyes don’t show my feelings and betray my bitten tongue. If he wanted to come to me, I’d let him, but I’m not diving first.

We kept steady work throughout the day of unpacking everything, sorting, cleaning, and sorting again. It was one of the most productive Wednesdays I’d had in a while, despite both of us skipping class to move Eddie in (this stressed him out immensely and he sent four different emails to his professors explaining the situation, how sorry he was, and how he promised he wouldn’t do it again). 

He had been so mad about the fact that I smoked indoors, he looked up plants that purified air and bought _four of them_; two spider plants in clay hanging baskets, a snake plant, and a long english ivy he was particularly keen on setting along the windowsill and around Barney’s terrarium._ “It’s like he’s back in the jungle!” _he exclaimed, surprising me with the shine he had taken to my six-legged friend. With the aid of a folding ladder I conjured from the back of our utility closet, he hung one of the spider plants in my room above the window. Along with the plants came a full set of matching glassware to fulfill my lack thereof and multiple patterned throw pillows and blankets he speckled across the living room furniture. Our apartment finally looked like a space that was lived in by people who gave a shit about their surroundings, but I’d give all of the credit to my new roommate.

+

After helping us break up the last of the cardboard, Maj celebrated Eddie’s move-in by bringing us a bottle of _Koskenkorva_, a Finnish vodka that was markedly sweeter than anything I’d choked down my freshman year. He snuck in a long pull that he hoped I wouldn’t notice, but he coughed too much for me to neglect it. 

“First time?” I joked.

“You wish,” he replied before elbowing me in the arm and taking another more graceful swig from the bottle. His mouth was wrapped around the lip of the bottle, making a pop! when he tipped it back down. I tried not to stare. I think he noticed me trying not to stare because his face started to flush, but it might’ve just been from the booze. 

He made us drinks with a pulpy, half-empty jug of lemonade and tangerine La Croix. I put _Mirror Touch_ on the turntable and shuffled my feet like an idiot when Eddie wasn’t looking. 

As a mauvey fire of dusk filled our windows we watched from our couch, heads already spinning from the alcohol.

“I like this song,” he mumbled over “No Money” and swirled his glass in his hand. 

I nodded, “I saw Wild Ones in Milwaukee a few months ago, picked this up as a souvenir.”

“What other shows have you seen?” he was on his stomach now, hands propped up under his chin and feet kicking the air near the arm of the sofa. 

“Ah let’s see, I’ve had to travel for all of these but Bon Iver in Minneapolis, Oso Oso downstate somewhere, Tigers Jaw, Lucy Dacus-” 

He blew a raspberry like he was bored of the answer, even though he asked the question.

“Already drunk?” 

“Already drunk,” he sat up to look at me directly, eyes glossy and surveying the map of my face. I marked down _lightweight_ in my mental notebook. Suddenly he leapt from the sofa, almost spilling his drink on the come up. “I forgot, I have a gift for you, Rich,” My eyes followed him to his bedroom where he rustled something out of his briefcase. His head shot out from the side of the doorway.

“Don’t look!” 

“Okay,” I set my cup down and placed my hands over my eyes, stifling a silly giggle.

“Okay,” he mimicked me, “you know how you said you had a Polaroid but could never splurge on the film?” 

I cringed at the word splurge but nodded, thinking back to our first conversation together and how it slipped so casually into the conversation as we talked about the 80’s making a comeback or some shit like that. 

“I do indeed, Eddie.” 

“Hold out your hands.”

I took my hands away from my glasses, my eyes still screwed shut fighting the urge to peek. 

He gave me an unopened pack of 600 film, grinning wildly with bated breath as the foil wrapping sat in my palms. My heart was pounding at the idea he remembered such a slight aside from our first conversation. Before I could even utter my gratitude he was running to my room to grab my camera. 

“Let’s take a picture! You know, first day as roomies and all,” he said sheepishly but still bright as ever.

“Sure,” I said, taking the camera from him and loading the film. 

I pretended to take a photo of him and he panicked that I had wasted the film until the darkslide came out. His shoulders slumped in relief and I tapped him on the cheek with the blank. 

“Okay, now let’s take a real one,” I said, and Eddie nestled up to my right arm, with his head resting in the crook of my shoulder. His ruffled hair tickled my neck and all I wanted was to stay like that forever, but I guess a photographic memory would have to do.

“Are you ready?”

He nodded and I felt the apple of his cheek press harder on my collarbone. I took the picture, smiling like a high school prom picture. The film card churned out of the camera and I set it face down on the coffee table.

“When’ll it be done developing?” Eddie asked, picking up the corner of the film.

“When we finish our drinks,” I replied before a long sip of the citrusy cocktail.

He rolled back into his seat looking impatient as ever, his hands were between his knees tapping a furious rhythm. He was staring at the tempting little square on the table, staring back at me, staring at the film.

“You’re gonna ruin it if you get too impatient, Eds,” _Story of my fucking life, hey?_

I rolled that sentence around on my tongue, tasting how bitter and layered it became as seconds passed, how I thought it absolutely emblazoned my feelings when it wasn’t called for. He caught a look at me, blinking like morse code as the cogs were turning in my mind.

“Don’t call me Eds,” he said in a tone I didn’t recognize, like he was trying to be upset while still tucking the name into his back pocket before turning to his drink and knocking it back. He scooped up my empty glass and carried both to the kitchen to fill the silence he didn’t want to speak in. 

When I was positively sure he wasn’t looking, I picked up the photo from the coffee table. 

The hypocrisy of it burned my face and my fingers, but seeing our smiles intensify in silver bromide made it worth any scolding I’d receive from my roommate. There he was, beaming in my collarbone while the flash filled my glasses, the top of my head slightly cut off. 

And I was smiling too.

I joined Eddie in the kitchen and stuck it to the fridge with a take-out menu magnet. 

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i know it was a short chapter but there will be another update before the end of the month :-)

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked this chapter!! i'm going to continue to write more (and lots, hopefully)
> 
> i will get some fic drawings up on my tumblr (earlyknit) eventually so stay tuned !! :-)


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